She changed into a halter top and a pair of tight jeans herself, and let Lucy brush her long, glossy hair as they talked about mascara, schoolwork, and boys. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. So Mrs. “I didn’t blow up the house. I’m going up to London with the Widgetts to that ball. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. "I don't see how you do it, Hoddy.
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